What Rosie Found Next (21 page)

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Authors: Helen J. Rolfe

BOOK: What Rosie Found Next
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Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

 

Tom, Sadie and Ryan descended on the house before lunchtime on Christmas day, and Tom was instantly charmed by Rosie; less so by Adam, who couldn’t seem to get it through his head that Tom
chose
to be a stay-at-home dad. Owen handed the man a beer and tried to remember he was way out of his comfort zone being here with all of them.

It was a warm summer’s day, but with a storm lingering overhead in the form of weighty grey clouds, Rosie and Owen elected to eat indoors at the table that stretched along the kitchen near to the double doors at the back of the house.

‘Rosie’s great,’ Tom whispered when he and Owen moved away from the girls in the kitchen as Sadie told Rosie how great the tree looked, how amazing the table settings were.

Owen held Ryan in his arms, close to the tree but far enough to stop Ryan grabbing the baubles or the lights that made him grin and gurgle. ‘She’s worked really hard today. She was like a whirlwind in the kitchen, wouldn’t hear of accepting any help.’

Tom leant closer to his brother. ‘That’s not exactly what I meant.’

‘I know it wasn’t.’ Owen handed Ryan back to Tom without meeting his gaze.

‘So?’

Owen watched Rosie lay a sprig of something-or-other on top of the turkey before Sadie lifted the platter over to the table. ‘There’s nothing to tell. As you can see for yourself, she’s already spoken for.’ Owen’s brows knitted together as Adam passed Rosie and grazed his hand across her lower back.

He skulled the rest of his beer, and as Adam swapped the kitchen area for the armchair nearest the Christmas tree, Owen joined Rosie.

‘Anything I can do for the dinner, Stevens?’ He rested a hand on her shoulder but removed it when Adam looked up from his iPad. Actually, it was pretty good Christmas entertainment to wind the guy up; he was easy bait, and Owen wasn’t a complete saint.

‘It’s all sorted in here.’ With a ruby red oven mitt protecting her hand from the steam, Rosie strained the vegetables. ‘I’m enjoying myself.’

He leaned closer. ‘Did you call your mum to wish her a Merry Christmas?’

She smiled. ‘I did, and she’s going to call over New Year’s too.’

‘I’m glad.’ He loved how easily she slotted in here and wondered whether, after this house-sit, she’d want to keep in touch. He wondered whether he’d ever see her again.

*

‘Well that tasted even better than it looked, Rosie.’ Following lunch, Tom sat back and patted his stomach. ‘I just wish I had a drawstring waist on these jeans.’

Smiling, Rosie stood to clear the plates. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

Owen whisked the plate out of her hands. ‘Oh no you don’t, you’re not clearing up.’

‘He’s right,’ said Adam, collecting dishes from the centre of the table.

‘And don’t even think of telling me you enjoy it as much as the cooking,’ Owen called from the kitchen.

Rosie moved round the table next to Sadie. ‘You’ll get no arguments from me. The clearing up is all yours!’

‘I love the Christmas village.’ Sadie was still trying to persuade Ryan to try the mashed up cauliflower, long after the adults had finished their food. She gave up and let him chew on the roast potato he held in his fist. ‘Where’s it from?’

‘Magnolia Gifts.’

‘Oh, I love that place. You wait till Easter when they have the cutest Easter baskets. I can’t wait until Ryan is old enough to do a big Easter egg hunt.’

‘There’s a chocolate shop opening up next year too,’ said Rosie mischievously. ‘You could buy your basket and then go and fill it with your own selection.’

‘Now that sounds like a great idea,’ Sadie smiled.

The women chatted as the men cleared up and finally it was present time. They congregated in the lounge area as storm clouds hovered ominously outside.

‘You men were the picture of domesticity up there,’ said Rosie. She sipped her wine. ‘Aren’t you drinking today?’ She’d noticed Owen sipping on orange juice.

‘I’d better not. Plenty of guys have family commitments today, so I want to be available in case I’m called.’

‘But you’ve got family commitments,’ she said.

‘I know, but I don’t have kids of my own and many of the others do. And Christmas is all about the kids. You guys are big enough and ugly enough to cope without me for a while if I have to go.’

Rosie bent down to the bottom of the tree and pulled out a box wrapped in shiny silver paper with white snowflakes. She handed it straight to Ryan. ‘Master Ryan, Merry Christmas.’ She planted a kiss of top of his downy head.

‘You didn’t have to do that.’ Sadie grinned as Ryan’s hands smacked against the box having no idea how this present opening worked.

‘I wanted to.’

‘Wowzers!’ Tom was straight into ripping off the paper for his son and pulled out a bright yellow and orange plastic bulldozer. ‘Look, Ryan, the driver lights up.’ He pressed one button and then another for the sound effects. Ryan was fascinated by the wrapping paper scrunched between his fists while his dad was having a great time playing with the truck and sussing out its functions.

Adam sat forwards on the sofa and rubbed Rosie’s shoulders as she sat on the floor. She reached her hand up and covered his. It was nice to have him here; weird, but nice.

Tom and Sadie gave Owen a new pair of biker gloves, they gave Rosie a silver bracelet with delicate flowers which she loved, and Owen bought his brother and Sadie a day out at Domaine Chandon in the Yarra Valley.

‘Is babysitting included?’ asked Tom.

‘I guess so.’

‘Overnight?’

Owen laughed. ‘I walked right into that one, didn’t I?’

Owen pulled another gift from beneath the tree and handed it to Rosie. ‘It’s just a little something.’

Rosie took the flat package wrapped in gold paper and tied with a green bow. Adam hovered behind her and she gulped as she released the ribbon and found a square, black envelope beneath the wrapping.

‘What is it?’ Adam urged.

She smiled at the gift certificate inside.

‘It’s to ensure she gets her dream Christmas next year,’ Owen explained as Rosie showed everyone the gift certificate for the tree farm they’d visited weeks before.

Rosie regaled the story of choosing the real tree that stood in the corner now, omitting details of her journey up there on Owen’s bike.

‘Thank you, Owen. I got something for you, too.’ She found his gift and watched him tug away paper to reveal an intercom kit for his motorbike. To mask her embarrassment she grabbed Adam’s present next, his favourite aftershave, Armani Acqua di Gio. She’d bought it for him and posted it a couple of weeks ago and he’d put it beneath the tree earlier today.

‘Thank you, Rosie.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘My turn,’ he said excitedly. He crouched down and pulled a small parcel from the back of the tree.

‘When did you hide that?’ She smiled up at him.

‘Moments after I arrived – what, did you think I’d forgotten?’

Rosie loosened the white satin bow and peeled away the silver wrapping to reveal a grey velvet box, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She opened the velvet box, but instead of the ring she had expected to see sitting on a bed of plush velvet, it was a key.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

Adam knelt down beside her. ‘It’s not just any key, Rosie. It’s a key to our new place.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve bought us an apartment in the city, in the heart of the Docklands: three bedrooms and three bathrooms. Friends welcome,’ he directed to the rest of the room. ‘There’s a gym in the complex, a sauna and pool, barbecue area, the works.’

‘Adam, I don’t know what to say.’ Her mind leapt to the cottage on Daisy Lane, but of course, she’d never even told him about it. And even if she had, she doubted Adam had, for one single minute, stopped to think about what she wanted. He called the shots in this relationship, always had. But then again, here he was, offering her what she’d always wanted: stability, security, permanence.

A buzzing from the kitchen bench stole Rosie’s attention away from the key. Owen leapt up, checked his pager and made a phone call as Sadie asked Adam all about the new pad.

Owen reappeared. ‘I have to go. Fire call.’

‘Stay safe,’ said Rosie, the memory of her dad more on her mind as she shared another family’s Christmas.

Their gazes met briefly before he left, and when Rosie heard the familiar rumble of the Ducati, she wished she could jump onto the back of the bike too and get far away from here so she didn’t have to think about what her future held now.

Chapter Thirty

 

 

The fire call was to a structure fire, a residential property just outside Magnolia Creek, and Owen pulled on his gear before joining the rest of the crew. Sirens blaring, the fire engine made its way to the scene.

When they arrived the family were outside, watching on as flames took hold. The youngest child was screaming and clinging to his older sister’s leg, the mother was crying and the dad looked on at the devastation with utter disbelief.

The crew confirmed nobody was inside the house – even the family dog had got out in time. The crew hosed the front windows of the house where the flames were belting out and threatening to reach for the tree in the front yard. A paved area separated the house from the grass, and with any luck they could extinguish the worst before the fire spread. The last thing they wanted was flames or embers to reach the grass and start a major bushfire. The house was in a remote location with the nearest neighbour well over a hundred metres away, and all that separated them was fields and grass, fuel for the fire.

Once the worst of the flames had been extinguished, Owen entered the building behind a colleague, using hand signals and yelling at the top of his voice as they made their way through an unfamiliar structure. This was a challenge Owen could tackle, one he wanted to overcome. But as he watched his colleague’s back and directed the hose to the flames that almost lit their way like lighting on the floor of an airplane cabin, Owen knew he’d lost the challenge of Rosie.

She wasn’t his. She never would be.

*

By the time Owen arrived back at the house, Tom, Sadie and Ryan had already left.

Rosie poured a glass of red wine. When Owen shook his head at the offer, she said, ‘Come on, you look as though you need it and it’s only one.’

‘Thank you.’ He took the glass gratefully. ‘I bet Ryan fell asleep on the way home. The kid must be exhausted, I know I am.’ He took a generous gulp of red. ‘Where’s Adam?’

‘He overdid the beer this afternoon. He’s sleeping it off upstairs.’ She sat down next to him. ‘Was the fire really bad?’

‘The family were lucky. From what we know, the Christmas tree was too close to a floor lamp and the lower branches caught on fire. The whole tree was alight in less than thirty seconds. It was lucky they were all in the room and saw it happen so they could escape. If those two kids had been asleep in bed, and the adults had been at the back of the house in the kitchen, then …’

‘But they weren’t, Owen, they weren’t.’ Her dad had been through the same emotions too, and she knew that caring was part of the job, the part that drove firefighters to acts of heroism without a second thought. ‘And you came home safely too,’ she said. To break the stare between them both, she asked, ‘Are you hungry?’

He shook his head but when she frowned he admitted, ‘Actually, I am a bit.’ He laughed as her frown deepened. ‘Okay, a lot.’

She opened a plastic container. ‘Can I interest you in a homemade mince pie? They’re my speciality.’

‘Sounds great. In fact,’ he grinned, ‘make it two, with cream.’

‘Thank you for my voucher,’ she said as she warmed the mince pies in the microwave and then drizzled a generous helping of cream over them.

‘I wanted to be sure you didn’t bow out of Christmas. And now you have a new apartment, it’ll be perfect. I just hope some poor bugger doesn’t have to carry the tree up too many flights of stairs.’

‘I’m sure there’s a lift,’ she said.

His gaze locked with hers. ‘That was some Christmas present. When do you get to see the place for yourself?’

‘I’ll go over next week.’ She busied herself wiping up the blob of cream she’d spilt on the kitchen bench.

When Owen had finished eating, she watched him go over to the bookcase and pull something out from behind the travel books. He handed her a flat red and gold parcel. There was a label attached which read, ‘Merry Christmas Rosie, Love your Secret Santa.’

‘It’s something I wanted you to have, but I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone else,’ he explained.

By ‘everyone else’ she assumed he meant Adam.

Inside the wrapping was a CD. She turned it over to see the cover.

Owen spoke first. ‘She’s a cello diva, she’s—’

‘I know.’ Tears stung Rosie’s eyes as she clutched the CD by a modern cellist Rosie had listened to many a time. ‘Your Song’, ‘What a Wonderful World’, and ‘Heaven’,
were just some of the tracks. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘I got you this, too.’ He produced a thin, flat envelope from his back pocket.

Her hands shook as she opened what she’d assumed was a Christmas card. But inside was much more than the previous gifts. It was a voucher, written on embossed paper.

‘It’s a day with the lady herself,’ he explained.

Rosie stared at the voucher for a day playing cello with one of the best cellists in the world, one who had played with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and to members of the royal family.

‘I want you to experience a little piece of wonderful, Rosie. You might think you’re not ready yet, but you will be. Trust me.’ He took her hands in his.

‘Rosie …’ He stepped closer. But when his fingers wrapped around her left hand he froze, because beneath his grasp was the rock that hadn’t been there before he left for the fire station. Adam had given her a second present, cleverly hidden within the branches of the tree, and one he’d only given her when they were alone. And when Adam uttered the words ‘Will you marry me?’ she’d said ‘Yes’; of course she had. It was the right thing to do, what she’d wanted for so long.

Looking at Owen now, Rosie questioned whether doing the right thing was always the right thing to do.

Owen stared down at the princess-cut diamond engagement ring. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Rosie could read it all in his eyes: disappointment, regret, sadness, loss. He dropped her hand, nodded and accepted the reality for what it was, and then turned and headed upstairs without looking back.

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